OneShot Summer
by mooneypadfootandprongs
Summary: Hey there! We are three friends, Mooney, Padfoot, and Prongs. This summer we decided to write Harry Potter one-shots to explore new characters. Basically every two weeks we'll each post a one-shot based on three different words that we gave each other.
1. Scissors

Word: Scissors

By: Mooney

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><p>Don't Run With Scissors<p>

It was a warm summer night in the middle of July. The inhabitants of Privet Drive were all sleeping soundly, none of them at all aware of the two people outside who, despite the time of night, were quite awake. The man sat perched on a flower bed, staring straight ahead at the house marked Number 4, while every now and then stealing glances at the woman who was walking along the flower bed like a balance beam. She tripped a surprising amount, before finally catching her foot on a nail and falling forward. The man reacted quickly, as though he was waiting for it to happen, and caught her before she hit the ground.

"Nymphadora, be careful!" Remus Lupin hurriedly whispered. "Maybe you should just sit down with me, rather than testing your balancing techniques."

"Don't run with scissors" muttered Tonks.

"What was that?" Lupin looked down at her.

"Oh, just something my dad always says to me. You know those things Muggles use to cut paper, they call 'em scissors? Well they are pointy and sharp, so you're not supposed to run around with them. But I guess it's kinda a Muggle phrase, "Don't run with scissors" cause my dad always says that to me whenever I topple something over, or break something. Guess it's kinda like saying "Be careful" for him. Although I don't think that's a normal Muggle thing, it's just something he says all the time. My dad's funny like that sometimes, he has his own little catch-phrases for everything….

"Ah, I see" Lupin responded, a slight smile playing across his face. Tonks couldn't help but blush; why did she always start rambling whenever she was alone with him? She was usually so confident and comfortable with people, but for some reason whenever Remus was around she started ranting about stupid things like scissors.

"Yeah," she smiled embarrassedly. She caught his eye as she looked up at him, reflecting for about the hundredth time on the flecks of blue that made them so deep. But for the first time, his eyes stayed locked in hers instead of retreating back to the floor as they usually did whenever they caught each other's glance. Her breathe caught in her throat as she continued to hold his gaze, and she started to feel slightly dizzy. How long had they been staring at each other: a few seconds or a few hours?

Then suddenly, as though he just recognized what was happening, Remus's head snapped away and he was once again checking up and down the street for any movement. It took Tonks a few moments to catch up with his movements, and then she too turned from him to continue to keep watch.

They sat together in silence for awhile, watching the deserted street and monitoring the window behind which Harry slept. Thoughts raced through her head as she tried to calm herself down; how could he make her heart beat so fast by just looking at her? She had certainly never reacted this way with any other guy. Granted, from the moment they had met about a month ago when the Order of the Phoenix was first coming together, she had instantly been attracted to him and his startlingly kind eyes. As she got to know him, his extreme generosity and gentle humor only drew her to him more. There were moments when she thought he might return these feelings of attraction, like when she caught him glancing at her from across the table at Sirius's place, or the way he said her name. No matter what, he had always refused to call her "Tonks" as she requested. But as much as she pretended to protest, she was secretly starting to like the way he said her name.

"Nymphadora, did you see that?" Remus was suddenly tense and alert.

"What, what is it?" Tonks startled, looking around. Man, she needed to keep her thoughts in line! She was here on duty, to ensure the safety of the most targeted boy in the Wizarding world, and she was off daydreaming. Was she an Auror or not? Why did this man, a seemingly insignificant, albeit significantly_ older_, man distract her so much?

"False alarm. It was just a stray cat," Remus clarified. He glanced down at her with an apologetic smile, and her heart skipped a beat. Alright, she needed to get to the bottom of this. Nymphadora Tonks was no sissy; she didn't need to wait around for the man to make the first move. It was time for her to figure out if there was anything here- to determine if Remus had any feelings for her. That way, she could either have her wishes fulfilled, or get on with her life.

Very slowly, she moved a little closer to Remus. When he did not seem to notice, she scooted over a bit more, so that her arm was brushing his. The effect was instantaneous as he quickly moved over to put distance between the two of them. Once again, she shuffled a little closer to him on the bench. She was surprised when he suddenly turned towards her.

"Do you need me to scoot over?" he asked, his face showing signs of confusion with a hint of hesitation. Tonks almost laughed out loud. As childish as her game of "tag" was, guys usually caught on pretty quickly that she was interested in being closer to them. Remus, on the other hand, honestly looked like he had no idea what was going on.

"No, sorry," she smiled. She decided to try a more subtle approach, by trying to start up a conversation.

"So, I missed you last time I came around the Order. I was hoping to run into you." Tonks hinted.

"Yes, Molly told me you had come by," Remus responded. Was she imagining the tinge of regret in his voice? "Unfortunately, I was on duty that evening."

"Yeah, figured as much. I was just disappointed I didn't get to see you. " She decided to be a bit blunt with this last comment, hoping for him to catch on to the fact that she had really stopped by just to see him.

"Yes, well…" Remus did not know what else to say. "I'm sure the Weasley's and Sirius were plenty of company for you." Tonks sighed. Although he looked slightly surprised, he did not show any remorse at the fact that they had missed time to spend with each other.

Frustrated with her failed efforts, Tonks stood up once more to walk around the flower bed. As she walked around, she did not turn back and go the other way when she reached where Remus was sitting. Instead, she decided to try something a little more daring. Lowering herself, she got close and whispered to him.

"I believe you're in my way Mr. Lupin," she breathed into his ear. She watched with delight as his body tensed up and his eyes slightly closed as his breath hitched in his throat. Slowly, he stood up and turned to face her.

"My deepest apologies Ms. Tonks," he replied, with a look upon his face that she couldn't quite place. She took a step forward on the beam of wood to move closer to him and tripped over the same nail she had caught her foot on earlier. Before she had a chance to brace herself for the fall, she felt Remus's arms come around her.

"Don't run with scissors" Remus said softly, looking down at Tonks with a smile on his face. Well, at least one thing was more certain, Tonks thought as she stood up with Remus's surprisingly warm arms still wrapped around her. Regardless of whether or not she was going to get what she wanted, it did not seem like this was going to be something she could let go of anytime soon.


	2. Leaf

Word: Leaf

By: Padfoot

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><p>Draco's New Leaf<p>

It's been six years since the second war was won, six long years. He feels like he hasn't left the Hogshead in that long. He sits in the shoddy little pub because people glare at him in the Three Broomsticks and people whisper about him in the Leaky Cauldron. The Hogshead is the only place where he's left alone. He knows the bartender is Aberforth Dumbledore, Albus' brother, he knows Aberforth should hate him, but since Draco is a paying customer, Aberforth lets him sit alone and drink away his problems.

The memories of the war still haunt him, the Great Hall full of his dead classmates, the cries and screams of the wounded. The worst part is his father, who never fails to let him know how much he messed up. Draco left his home years ago, unable to stand the shame any longer. Now he sits in the Hog's Head, lost and alone. He can't move forward, no one wants to associate their name with Malfoy, and there is of course no way of going back. He's again, for probably the millionth time in his life jealous of Potter, who he knows has moved on.

"Can I get another?" he asks Aberforth.

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

Draco looks up, startled by the voice, because it isn't Aberforth', it's a female's voice. She looks familiar and yet Draco is sure he's never met her before. Her hair is long and dark; her eyes are a startling shade of blue. She sits next to him and orders him a water.

"Do I know you?" he asks, he hears the harshness in his voice.

She doesn't seem fazed by his rudeness, but laughs it off instead.

"I'm Astoria Greengrass, my sister was a Slytherin in your year," she tells him.

"Draco Malfoy," he mutters.

"Oh I know who you are Draco," she grins.

He realizes now why she looks so familiar. Though he's sure he never once saw Daphne Greengrass smile the way Astoria is smiling at him now.

"You're not like her," he says, "Daphne I mean. She always looked angry."

"I'm not like a lot of members of my family," she grins, "My father nearly had a heart attack when I was sorted into Ravenclaw and not Slytherin."

"You know, not to be rude or anything, but I don't really fancy a chat, I'm sort of busy at the moment," Draco says. He is done talking to her and wants to go back to drinking alone.

"You look busy," she says, her tone riddled with sarcasm, "Look, I'm actually here for a reason, so do try not be such an arse."

"Please, enlighten me as you why you are here," he says in a drawling voice. He wants another firewhiskey, but he doesn't dare ask for one.

"Your mother is worried about you," Astoria replies.

Draco sighs and runs his hand through his hair. Over the years he's come to hate the fact that all pureblood families are always so closely intertwined. It's hard to keep secrets from anyone in a group so small.

"Fantastic, well, tell her I'm fine won't you?" he says bitterly.

"But you aren't fine Draco," Astoria says gently, "Let me take you back to your flat, I can make you a cup of tea, maybe we can even have a little chat?"

Draco considers her offer for a moment, well longer than a moment. He doesn't want to talk, not to anyone, not ever. He's happy sitting alone in the Hog's Head and when it closes for the night he's happy to stumble on home and be alone there as well. But Astoria is smiling at him, the sweetest smile he thinks he's ever seen, and her eyes are just so pretty.

"Alright," Draco says standing.

Astoria beams, despite Draco's drunken stumble. She throws his arm over her shoulder and together they stumble outside. Then with a pop Astoria apperates them to Draco's flat. He fumbles a moment with his key, but eventually manages to open the door and let her in. He notices the faint look of disgust on her face as she scans the messy flat.

"I don't do much cleaning," Draco shrugs, tossing his coat onto a shabby sofa.

"No, I see that," she nods.

He shows her to the small, dimly lit kitchen, where she immediately begins working on making tea, occasionally cleaning things here and there. Draco shoves a bunch of Daily Prophet newspapers off the table and onto the floor, and then sits himself down in one of the chairs.

"So tell me Astoria, what made you decide to look for me? Surely a respectable girl like you wouldn't want to associate with a coward like me," Draco says with a bitter laugh.

Astoria walks over to the table and sets a cup of tea in front of him. She's smirking at him, obviously not buying any of his bullshit.

"I came looking for you because I know there aren't a lot of people left who care enough to look for you," she says bluntly.

He looks up and meets her gaze, she's dead serious. No one has been this straight forward with him, ever, and Draco can't think of anything more refreshing.

"Will you marry me?" he asks.

She begins to laugh. Draco doesn't, he's almost positive he wasn't joking. She seems to notice and try as she might, she can't hide her astonishment.

"Oh, you aren't kidding," she says, "Well, I'm going to have to say no Draco. I mean, we've just met," she says the last bit with a sort of uncomfortable laugh.

"No, I know, I was being silly," Draco says shaking his head, "How about a date?"

Again she is shocked. She hesitates for a moment, clearly unsure of what to say. Draco feels dumb.

"Drink your tea, you idiot boy," she snaps. He grabs his teacup and begins to sip. "Draco, I'm afraid that I have nothing to offer you but friendship. You're a mess. You have no job, you're flat is a dump, and you spend all your time drinking away whatever problems you think you have. Lives were lost in that war, families were torn apart. You and yours came out completely unscathed and yet you mope about as though you've actually lost something."

"I lost my reputation!" he says defiantly. "That was all I had!"

"And that is the saddest part of all Draco," she tells him gently.

He looks down at his teacup, too ashamed to meet her eyes. She's right, about everything she's said since the moment he met her. After a moment or two of examining his cup, Draco finally brings himself to look at her again. She's regarding him with a strange look; it takes him a few seconds to understand that its pity etched across her face. The last time he saw that look he was sixteen standing on the Astronomy tower and it came from the person he'd least expected, the man he was trying to kill.

"Look, Draco, I'm sorry about what I said," she begins softly.

She reaches for his hand, but he pulls it away. He doesn't deserve her kindness.

"No you're right," he nods.

"Listen," she reaches for his hand again, this time he lets her, "I want to help you."

She smiles and again he feels unworthy. And that is when Draco makes a vow to himself. Draco vows that he will pull his life around, he vows to become a man deserving of the kindness Astoria Greengrass has showed this night, he vows to someday be the kind of person that she respects. With Astoria's smile, Draco has vowed to turn over a new leaf.


	3. Sneeze

Word: Sneeze

By: Prongs

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><p>An Angel's Sneeze<p>

Walking down the hall, Severus Snape kept his head down. There was only one reason to raise his head, and that reason had, at the moment, been taken away from him. He put one foot in front of the other, kept his potions book tight in his hand, and fell into rhythm.

A floosh of red hair came into his peripherals and he felt his heart palpitate, the same as it does every time he sees Her. The first time it happened, he saw Her in the park, he thought he was suffering from some sort of heart condition and was worried, but then She left and his heart returned to it's regular, now painful beating. Every day he went to the park just to feel his heart stop and then start back up in hyper speed. He couldn't talk to Her; he didn't know what would happen to him if he did. He thought he would have keeled over dead if he ever tried. So he just watched Her. Most of the time She was with what he only guessed was Her sister, even though she looked nothing like the girl who made his heart stop.

The person connected to the red hair, however, was not Her and he became angry with himself, angry with his heart for stopping for some random red head. He kept walking. It seems to be a common occurrence recently—being angry with his heart; since he could never be angry with Her. But anger doesn't solve his problem. It never has. Looking back at the girl with red hair he clearly saw the differences. This girl's hair was definitely lighter than the flames that he sees when ever Her hair whips around. Her hair was fire in the wind-the wind one could only get from being on a swing.

Severus used to sit out behind that bush and watch as She would swing higher than all the other children. Her flames flying behind her. Her eyes twinkling with laughter. Her eyes. The first time She was close enough for him to see her eyes, he remembers thinking they were the deepest green he had ever seen and the need to remember every detail. From that moment, Her eyes have remained in the back of his head, allowing him, when he needed it, to see them and (back then, during the playground days,) remember that there was something better out there than what was in his house. When they first got to school, it was remembering that She was just three tables away and still his best friend. Now though, it's to hope they might one day be friends again, to fantasize about being more than that.

From first glance he knew She was an angel, an angel sent to make his life better, give him something to live for. While She was his angel, a part of him, an actual rather big part of him wanted Her to have some sort of imperfection—something to put Her on a level that was at least somewhat attainable, not counting his dreams. He would crouch in his bush, not caring that snow was seeping into his shoes and trousers, and look for any imperfection. Any flaw, limitation or shortcoming; and then She sneezed. This single sneeze made every flower in the playground erupt. Every petal flew into the sky, stayed there a moment and then fell to the ground. It was magic. She had done magic. This thought made his heart do more than it's usual palpitations, it soared. She would be going to school with him. She would know who he was. She was still his angel, with absolutely no imperfections, but this was better, amazingly better.

His first rash words to her have always been a regret: "_It's obvious, isn't it."_ The moment he stood up and said that, he wished and waited for the second when he would keel over and die, but it didn't happen. He had spoken to his angel, quite rude words non-the-less and still remained standing. Before he could sink back into his bush and away from Her glorious gaze She spoke. But then Her horrible sister made it all turn rotten. He had never been so disappointed and embarrassed, never so hurt and angry, never so sad and happy all at the same time.

It was a week before he saw her again. Their mother must have heard about what happened and kept them away. He blamed the sister. She was alone this time, for the first time. Instead of going to Her favorite swing like she did every other time, She went directly to his bush. He panicked, thought of running, but then Her voice rang out and he felt instantly soothed. _"I want you to tell me more about, about what I am." _She said it so surely, She didn't even check to make sure he was in there. She just demanded him to inform Her, and one can never disobey an angel.

They would talk for hours. Never, not even in his more incredible dreams did he think She would sit and talk with him, let alone become friends. But they did become friends. She would rant to him about Her sister, complain about the chores She'd been given, describe Her cat Fluffles, but more often, their conversations were centered around Her questions about the world they were both about to enter into.

She would laugh at things he said. To Severus, he would have said something just in response, completely serious with his answer, but She would find it somehow hilarious. He normally didn't find himself to be a funny person, but whenever She would throw her head back in laughter and Her eyes began to twinkle, it made him feel like the funniest person who ever lived.

She would say his name. Common for a friendship, he knew that. However, he had always hated his name. Scorned his mother for giving him such an awful group of syllables, but when his angel said his name, it sounded like the heavens pouring down in song. Severus then turned to Sev. The first time She used the nickname She came up with, he was so taken aback that for a moment he thought She was talking to someone else who had walked up behind him. Then once he got over his moment of daftness, he was elated by the fact that they were close enough for Her to create a nickname for him.

Through all that talking, and all that laughing, and all the heavenly song, there were also the most magical times: She would sneeze. Every time she sneezed, just like the first time, all the flowers would erupt and the petals would hang lazily in the air and then slowly sway back down to their stems. He would purposely sit in the flower covered meadow by the playground or in the tree thicket where the wildflowers were always in bloom, so that just in case She sneezed he would see the fireworks of petals.

So there it is he had become best friends with his angel. They excitedly got ready for school together, sat anxiously on the train together, Her hand clutched his as the boat moved across the lake, She nervously squeezed his hand after McGonagall read her name aloud. But then disaster struck in the form of a single speaking hat. They were put in different houses, rival houses. They talked less and less. Their friendship seemed to fall apart. He tried to do everything to keep Her _his_ angel, but there was always something in the way. It wasn't until that day, the dreaded day, that he realized just how far they had drifted. He regretted what he said far more that day than his first words. His first words created their friendship as rude and seemingly disastrous they were at the time, these words ended their friendship. The moment that word spilled from his lips he wanted to die. He wished that this one word would be the one that made him keel over and die before his angel. But once again he remained alive, and Her face—Her eyes—they turned cold. The glitter was gone. He had lost Her. He knew that no amount of begging (which he did end up doing,) would bring his angel back to him. It was literally the end of his world. He didn't care about what they were doing to him, or that the entire school was out their laughing, his world was falling down around him.

Eventually in class he had to avoid Her gaze. She used to look at him apologetically like She was sorry She wasn't sitting with him. Then after, after that day, She would hardly look at him at all, but when She did it was with disgust and anger. When She looks at him like that, instead of palpitating like it used to, his heart twists.

Severus was incredibly close to his destination. He picked his head up for a moment to see just how far he had left to get to the Divination step ladder—there She was. At the end of the hallway. Talking. To him. Laughing. With him. Before She could turn around and make his heart twist, he ducked under Lachlan the Lanky. He had come full circle. Here he was crouched behind an obstructive figure watching Her.

The news that the Head Boy and Head Girl had "_finally gotten together_" reached his ears exactly three hours, twenty-two minutes, and fifty-two seconds ago. It was a knife plunged into his heart, keeping it from any future palpitations.

He continued to watch Her. She hung on his arm. Laughed at his joke, which Severus was sure was meant to be funny, Her head thrown back and her eyes glittering. He tried to imagine Her on his arm, laughing at his intentional joke, and then a simple amazing magical thing happened. She sneezed. While she has long since had her magic under control and no flowers physically erupt any longer—his head is full of petals hanging in the air for a moment, and then slowly begin to fade away. Her eyes now bring just that to his mind, the petals of a thousand flowers slowly fading away.


	4. Frozen

Word: Frozen

By: Mooney

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><p>"But Harry it's freezing cold outside!"<p>

"Oh, come on, it's the first snow of the season! The kids have got to experience this."

A chorus of "please mommy, please mommy, please!" echoed across the room. Harry started laughing at the look on his wifes face as she slowly admitted defeat. Ginny smirked at him, pulled on her coat and turned to button up her sons cloaks. Harry reached down to pick Lily up from her crib, wrapping blankets tightly around her.

The wind hit their faces like sharp knives as they stepped outside of their cozy cottage. With Harry at the Ministry and Ginny working for the Daily Prophet, the family was often questioned about why they lived in such a small, simple home. It was true; the family had enough money to afford a much larger place, but they just felt comfortable in their cottage on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. There was enough room for the five of them, and that was all they needed.

In front of the door lay a huge field, every inch of it covered with pure white snow.

The two boys took off running, James shouting at Albus to keep up. The three year old ran chasing his big brother, moving his tiny legs as fast as he could. They ran all the way to a patch of trees located in front of the home, and stopped to look up at the white blanket that covered there usual climbing spot. James dropped to the floor to make a snow angel and was quickly followed by his brother, who seemed to think that if James did it first it must be brilliant.

Back in front of the house, Ginny held flames in her hands, attempting to keep her daughter warm. Harry stood watching his boys roll all over the snow, smiling over how carefree they looked. The boys rolled over each other, throwing snowballs in each others faces without concern for how frozen their cheeks were becoming.

"They could turn into solid ice-cubes and not care, those two," Ginny laughed. Harry turned to look at his wife, whose eyes sparkled with the joy.

"How are you so beautiful?" Harry asked, as he so often did. The first time he had asked her had been the day of their wedding, and it had just slipped out of his mouth without thought. When Ginny's response was to slightly blush and kiss him hard, he decided it was a good question to ask. Ginny smiled sweetly up at her husband, being used to the question after seven years of marriage.

"I'm not, it's just a really strong love potion I've got you under." she wittily replied.

"Oh, is that it? I've been wondering..." Harry joked.

"Yes. Remember back when Ron took that love potion from Romilda, back at school? Well I took a leaf out of her book and have been slipping it to you ever since! But don't worry, you wont remember any of what I'm telling you in the morning."

"Oh good, I'd hate to remember. I just want to go back to the blissful ignorance where I get to wake up next to you every morning and think 'Merlin, I love her.' " Harry had gotten much better with charming his wife over the years, mainly due to fact that since Ginny didn't get all soppy when he said romantic things, he wasn't afraid to say them. Ginny never needed Harry to shower her with gifts or swoon her with poetry. She was content with just being with him, and knowing how much he cared about her.

The family stayed out in the snow for awhile longer, with Harry and Ginny joining in on a snowball fight with the boys. Lily laid nearby in a crib Harry had conjured up, surrounded in the warm flames Ginny placed around. James teamed up with his mom, and made his every attempt to hit Albus as many times as possible with the balls of snow. Albus did his best to dodge them, and with a little help from his dad was able to send a few flying back at his brother. Over an hour later the five of them dragged themselves back inside to get ready for dinner. Although they were all frozen solid and shivering down to their bones, not one of them was missing a smile.


	5. Golden

Word: Golden

By: Padfoot

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><p>Bill Weasley has lived two whole years being the center of his parent's world, but this morning, his mum brought home an extremely loud cat wrapped in a blanket. At least he thinks it's a cat, what else could it be? His dad brought home a cat before, but it certainly wasn't as annoying as this one. What's worse is this cat seems to be taking up all of his parent's attention. He doesn't understand what is so special about a stupid cat anyways. His dad sits him down on the couch, he looks sleepy to Bill, but he's still smiling.<p>

"Bill, remember when Mummy and I talked to you about a baby brother?" Daddy asks.

"Mummy's gonna give Bill a baby brudder," Bill says nodding.

His parents have been promising one to him for a long time now. He wasn't sure what a baby brother was, but it sounded special.

"Well," Daddy looks up. Mummy is coming over with the squishy cat, its wrapped in a blanket and wiggling around.

"Kitty?" Bill asks as Mummy sits down next to him.

"No Billy," Daddy laughs.

Mummy smiles broadly and sits down next to him. She pulls the blanket back so that Bill can see what it's concealing. It is not a kitty, Bill sees that immediately. It is quite ugly though. It's bald and wrinkly and its face is all scrunched up. Except his eyes, Bill thinks he likes it's eyes. They're golden brown, just like Mummy's.

"This is your new baby brother, Charlie," Mummy says gently.

"Charwee," Bill says poking his baby brother's face.

"Gentle, Bill," Daddy says as Charlie starts to cry.

In the few weeks that follow, Bill decides he hates his baby brother.

* * *

><p>Bill Weasley is eight. The Burrow is much louder than it used to be, what with an eight year old, a six year old, a two year old, and two new baby twins scampering around the cramped area.<p>

Bill is asleep in his bedroom when the door opens slowly. He doesn't wake up though; he's always been a heavy sleeper. Charlie waddles across the floor and stands next to Bill's bed. He bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting patiently for his big brother to wake.

"Billy," Charlie says after a few moments.

Bill finally wakes with a start and glares at his brother incredulously.

"What do you want Chubs?" Bill asks. Charlie is chubby and Bill never lets him forget it.

"I had a bad dream, Billy," the little boy tells Bill.

Bill hates when anyone calls him Billy, but Charlie always does it anyways.

"Go tell Mum and Dad," Bill mumbles rolling over.

Charlie stares at his big brother's back for a moment. Tears begin to well up in his little golden eyes. He tries not to sniffle, knowing it will annoy Bill, but he can't help it.

"I'm sorry Billy," Charlie whimpers as Bill turns to face him.

Bill sighs as he lifts his covers and pats the area next to him. Charlie scrambles into his bed, practically forcing Bill into the wall, and completely taking the pillow. Charlie's out like a light in an instant, snoring softly beside Bill. Even as an eight year old, Bill recognizes the relationship he shares with Charlie is deeper than any he could share with little Percy or the babies Fred and George. Bill and Charlie are the eldest and Charlie is closest to Bill in age. He still can't stand his chubby little brother, but he thinks one day he might.

* * *

><p>Bill Weasley is eighteen, it is his last year at Hogwarts and he is sitting in the common room studying for his N.E.. It's late and he's in the middle of some very important Ancient Runes work when Charlie stumbles in through the portrait hole. Charlie is 16 and in his fifth year, he's no longer chubby, but still short and stocky. Bill still can't fathom how he got so good at playing seeker.<p>

Charlie flops down in the chair next to his brother. Bill is about to tell Charlie off for getting in so late, until he looks up. Charlie's forehead is damp; he looks as if he's going to be sick and he's clutching his arm to his chest.

"What's up?" Bill asks worried.

"Fire crabs," are the only words Charlie can manage as he holds his arm out to Bill.

Bill grimaces, Charlie's arm, from the elbow down to his hand has been badly burned. It isn't uncommon for Charlie to come bursting into the common room with cuts, scrapes, or bruises. When he's not practicing Quidditch, he's usually playing with the creatures Professor Kettleburn uses. Bill has never seen it this bad however.

"Dammit Charlie!" Bill curses, "What the bloody hell were you doing out there this late anyways?"

"I wanted to get some practice in while no one was about," Charlie says. His golden brown eyes avert away from Bill's blue ones.

"Charlie, don't lie to me," Bill reprimands. It's moments like these that he reminds himself of his mother, he shudders at the thought, but continues to stare at his little brother.

"Alright, one of the fire crabs was looking a bit peaky the other day, I wanted to make sure she was alright," Charlie confesses, "Turns out I can't handle sickly fire crabs just yet."

Bill crosses his arm and shakes his head. Charlie glances up somberly. Bill sighs and goes up to his dorm where he keeps a small first aid kit for situations like these. He knows Charlie will probably need Madame Pomfrey in the morning, but he'll at least be able to fix his brother up for the night.

Charlie grins at Bill as Bill begins to dress his wounds. Bill thinks Charlie is a little too cocky for a sixteen year old. He worries that Charlie will get himself into big trouble one day and Bill won't be there to get him out of it.

"Do try to be a tad more careful will you?" Bill says to Charlie when he's finished on his arm.

"Sure thing big brother," Charlie says with a yawn.

As Charlie bounds up the stairs, Bill shakes his head and wonders what Charlie will do next year, when Bill is no longer at Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>Bill Weasley is twenty-two. He's been living on his own in Egypt for four years now and he has never enjoyed himself more. It is eight o'clock; he's getting ready to go down to the local pub with a few of his mates, when there is a knock on his door. He opens his door and is surprised to see Charlie standing in front of him. Charlie looks like crap. His hair is a mess, he looks like he hasn't shaved in days, and his golden eyes look bloodshot. Bill can see he hasn't slept.<p>

"Charlie, what happened?" he asks letting him in.

Charlie walks straight to Bill's sofa and sinks into it, lowering his head into his hands. Bill sits next to his brother.

"She ended it Bill," he mumbled.

Bill is shocked. Charlie has been dating the same girl since his sixth year at Hogwarts.

"What happened?" Bill asks gently placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"She found someone else," Charlie replies, Bill's heart breaks for him as his voice cracks.

"Charlie I'm so sorry," Bill says.

It's true, he is sorry, but he's partially saying it because he doesn't know what else to say.

"She was the one, I was going to marry her Bill," Charlie says sadly.

Bill hugs his little brother as he cries softly. He knows how much Charlie cared about the girl. After a moment Bill stands and tells Charlie he's going to make tea. In the kitchen Bill scribbles a note to his friends telling them he won't be going out tonight. When Bill returns to the sitting room, Charlie is curled on the sofa sleeping soundly.

As Bill watches him sleep he remembers when Charlie used to climb into his bed at night after having bad dreams. He was so young and vulnerable on those nights. It has been a long time since Bill's remembered those nights, but looking at Charlie now he sees the same little boy. Scared and alone, but comforted enough by his big brother's presence to finally fall asleep.

* * *

><p>Bill is twenty seven. It is quite possibly the biggest day of his life and he feels as though his heart is going to burst out of his chest. He's nervous as all hell. His hands shake as he tries to tie his tie. After a few failures he gives up and chucks the blasted thing to the floor. He sits on his old bed.<p>

He scans the old room. It had been Bill's until Ginny was born, then he and Charlie had shared it whenever they were home from Hogwarts. It was of course completely unchanged. Their Gryffindor banners were hung about. A large poster of The Weird Sisters hung on Charlie's side of the room. It looked as the nothing was different, but of course, everything is.

Charlie walks into the room and shuts the door behind him. He feels a bit uneasy as he catches Bill in disarray. Bill has always been the cool, calm, and collected one. Charlie has never seen his easy demeanor falter. Not even after his run in with Greyback. He chuckles thinking that a tiny French girl scares his brother more than a terrifying werewolf.

"What is so funny?" Bill asks Charlie, just realizing he isn't alone.

"I was just thinking how hilarious it is that Fluer scares you more than Greyback," Charlie mused.

"I'm glad someone is enjoying this," Bill says narrowing his eyes at Charlie.

Charlie just grins. He picks up the tie off the floor and carries it over to Bill.

"Stand up," he tells his brother.

Bill obliges and Charlie quickly ties the tie around his brother's neck. He smiles proudly at his handiwork.

"Thanks Charlie," Bill mumbles.

"Of course," Charlie beams. "Now, are you ready?"

Bill looks into his brother's eyes, the golden brown eyes that Bill has been taking care of for twenty five years. Today there is something different about them; they are older, more mature eyes and Bill smiles as he realizes that today Charlie is the one taking care of him.


	6. Lemon

Word: Lemon

By: Prongs

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon Filius," Filius knew he was late and must have been the last to arrive to the rather abrupt and premature, (as there was still three weeks until the next term) staff meeting. Filius looked around the room and corrected his last thought, there were only five of his fellow staff members there, and of course Dumbledore who had just greeted him in usual jolly manner<p>

"Sorry I'm late Dumbledore" Filius responded with a nod.

"Time is but the string we try to keep a grasp of, as life flies past us Filius. No need to be sorry." While this only slightly made sense, he nodded in full and sat down next to Quirrel, instantly regretting the choice as the smell that was coming from his turban was near to invoking regurgitation. He enviously looked over at Pomona and the empty seat next to her. Pomona forever smelled of flowers. He would have even enjoyed the seat between Minerva and Severus both of which only looked forward with stern looks upon their faces. Frankly sitting on Hagrid's lap would have been better than where he was at the moment. However, thinking thoroughly about his sitting situation had caused him to miss Dumbledore's beginning words.

"—in three weeks, I thank you all for being here today. The reason for this limited staff meeting is a matter of secrecy. My good friend Nicolas,"

"As in F Flamel?" Quirrel stammered out.

"Yes Quirinus. Nicolas Flamel, and myself have decided that the current hiding place for the philosophers stone is not secure."

"Why is that Dumbledore?" Pomona asked from her sweetly smelling corner.

"We, I, have reason to believe that Voldemort—" Filius squeaked. He had never gotten used to Dumbledore saying the name, even after 11 years without him. He was slightly eased by the fact that he wasn't the only one to make a gesture of shock and fear at the name. Minerva had shuddered, and Pomona was fanning herself. "is in pursuit of the stone."

"You mean, he's back?" Filius continued to squeak.

"No. He isn't. But we have good reason to believe he is trying everything he can to do just that. The reason you are all here today is to devise the protection for the stone. With all of your various fields and my own contribution, I feel that the stone will be fully protected."

"What g-gives you such an an idea, D-Dumbledore?" stuttered Quirrell with a shiver. Filius turned to look at him. But he wasn't the only one, the entire room was now starring at Quirrell. Never had Filius, nor anyone else in the room, heard Dumbledore's ideas or actions be questioned. It was just accepted. Dumbledore just smiled.

"Quirinus, it will all be answered in time. Lemon drop anyone?"


	7. Ghastly

Word: Ghastly

By: Mooney

* * *

><p>It was a perfectly normal morning at Number 4 Privet Drive. Petunia Dursley had woken up to the terrific screams of her adorable son Dudley, taken an hour to painstakingly force him to eat something, and soothed his cries when he had thrown a tantrum at the thought of being set down from his mothers arms. Petunia was now preparing breakfast for her husband Vernon, since he would be down soon on his way to go to work. She meticulously cracked the eggs in a perfect manner, as to not drip egg yolk anywhere in her gleaming kitchen.<p>

Vernon stumbled down the stairs around half past 7 and promptly took his seat at the kitchen table, waiting for Petunia to set his breakfast in front of him. He grunted in appreciation when she placed eggs, bacon, toast and orange juice on the table.

"Did you fetch the paper yet?" Vernon managed to ask through a mouth full of buttered toast.

"I'll go grab it now. Keep an eye on Dudders, would you?" Petunia responded, motioning to their son who sat dangerously close to a very expensive looking glass vase in the sitting room.

Petunia strolled to the front of the house. As she opened the door and took a step outside, she noticed something down by her feet. Looking down just in time before she took another step on top of it, she glanced down to see a bundle on her doorstep that had definitely not arrived with the morning paper.

From inside the house, Vernon heard a piercing scream. Rushing up from the table, he ran to the front door to find his wife staring at the ground, a ghastly look sprawled across her face. He took a step closer and was confronted with what had given his wife such a nasty shock. Sleeping in a basket, covered in a blue blanket, sitting on his front porch, there was a baby. An actual baby. A baby that seemed to be waking up. And resting upon its blanket, as if to dispel any doubt that the baby had simple been left at the wrong house, was an envelope that clearly read "To Mr. and Mrs. Dursley."

Suddenly aware that they were out where neighbors could see them, Vernon realized what a scene this must be causing. If anyone had heard Petunia scream and was peering out their front window, they would see them staring down at this strange child, who has seemingly come out of nowhere. He had to act quickly.

"Petunia, bring it inside." He hurried, motioning to the basket. She didn't seem to even register that he had said anything, for her eyes did not leave the baby.

"Petunia, if anyone sees us they'll think we've gone mad! Just bring it inside so we can figure out whose it is." She still did not respond. Worried something had come over his usually practical wife, he bent down himself to pick up the basket and brought it into his living room. Petunia seemed to be snapped out of a trance when the child moved, and she quickly followed her husband into their house and slammed the front door shut.

"Well, whose baby is it?" Vernon asked rather loudly, clearly put out that some child had interrupted his peaceful morning. Again Petunia didn't answer.

"I guess we'll just read the letter then. Probably someone's idea of a practical joke. Absolute lunatics, leaving a child sitting outside." Vernon reached for the letter atop the baby, but stopped short when his wives hand speedily grabbed it before him.

"I'll read it," she spoke. It was clear she was trying to keep her voice even, but her shaking betrayed her. Her fearful nature was apparent, and it seemed to Vernon that she knew something was wrong. Her unsteady hands clumsily opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper from inside. She started to read it.

"Well, what's it say?" asked Vernon, who had expected her to read it aloud. After all, this concerned both of them, didn't it? He was beginning to be annoyed with the fact that his wife seemed unaware of his presence. She didn't answer until she had finished reading the letter, had folded it back up and placed it once again inside the envelope.

"It's Harry," came her quiet voice, drastically different from the high pitched fearful voice she had spoken with before. The shock was still present, but she suddenly looked incredibly sad.

"Harry? Harry who?"

"Harry Potter," Petunia seemed near tears now.

"Potter? Isn't that the name of that bloke your sister married? Isn't it? Is this their son then?" Vernon began to get increasingly angry. "What, have they gone for a vacation and didn't want the burden of a baby around? Too much responsibility for them, was it? Didn't fit in right with their lifestyle? They think they can just drop it off with us and gallivant off to their weirdo..."

"They're dead."

Silence filled the room. Even Dudley, who had been starting to get antsy left by himself, stopped whining. It was as if he understood something very important had just happened. Petunia looked down at Harry, whose green eyes had just opened and taken in his new surroundings. Harry looked up at Petunia and Vernon, looked around the perfectly polished living room, and began to cry. Both of the Dursley's simply stood there, unaware of what they should do. This went on for a few minutes until Dudley crawled over to the basket to find out what was making all the noise. As the child lifted himself up to see the new arrival to his home, Harry noticed the boy and ceased crying. The two children looked at each other with fascination.

This seemed to snap Vernon out of his shock and he looked once again to Petunia, as though she should have all the answers.

"So what, do they expect us to keep him? He'll... he'll... he'll be like _them. _Wont he? We cant have that in the house Petunia!" Vernon exclaimed. Mrs. Dursley looked at her husband with seemingly no emotion on her face. The sadness from before had departed, as though she had grieved for her sister and had now moved on.

"We're his only living relatives. This letter here says so. And it says we've got to keep him. Got to keep him safe." Petunia spoke with a mechanical voice.

"Safe? Safe from what? How'd your sister die anyways?" The last question came out so harshly that Petunia winced as though she had been slapped. She closed her eyes and took a few seconds before she answered slowly.

"We can talk about that later. Right now you need to go to work." This statement seemed so out of place to Vernon that he was sure he had misunderstood what she had said.

"Go to work?" he questioned. "I should just go to work? Go to work even though this _thing_ has just been dropped on our ruddy doorstep and you're telling me its parents are dead and that we've got to keep him now? Petunia we cannot keep it! I wont be associated with this!" Vernon was growing alarmingly red in the face as he shouted. Petunia calmly turned towards him.

"You have to go to work because people will wonder where you are if you don't go. And we can hardly tell them the truth, can we? Go to work," Petunia warned. Understanding the wisdom in his wives words, he quickly ran to get his briefcase.

"Quite right you are. Can't have people asking questions. Especially not now. No, not now. Just keep it in here until I get home. Then we'll figure out where to put it, yes," Mr. Dursley was half talking to Petunia and half muttering to himself, to keep himself calm. He moved quickly to the door.

"And Vernon?" He turned at the sound of Petunia's voice. The look upon her face was unrecognizable. She seemed very solid and strong, and even though her gaze was once again upon the baby, it was clear she was talking to him.

"We are keeping him."


	8. Bounce

Word: Bounce

By: Padfoot

* * *

><p>Sirius knocked on Professor McGonagall's door tentatively. His best mate James had emerged from her office just five minutes ago looking anywhere but at Sirius: surely a bad sign. There was no answer from behind her door, instead it opened on its own, revealing the stern faced woman sitting at her desk looking, if possible, even more stern.<p>

Sirius held his breath as he entered the room. She made no movements, just followed him with her eyes as he sat down in the chair across from her. He had learned throughout his many experiences inside the Professor's office that keeping quiet and letting her start the conversation was the best way to go about things. Unfortunately, Sirius was a stupid sixteen year old boy and wasn't one for going about things in the best way.

"My you're looking lovely today," Sirius said in a bracing voice.

Professor McGonagall just stared, unfazed and very obviously not amused. Sirius let slip a nervous, awkward laugh.

"Mister Black, I'm not sure you grasp how much trouble you are in," McGonagall snapped.

Sirius paused; he had to really consider his next move. He wasn't exactly sure why Professor McGonagall had summoned him and James, although he had his speculations, and if he was right, they would indeed be in a fairly large amount of trouble. However, Sirius was positive that James would not have sold them out.

"My dear Professor, I think you're confused," Sirius said leaning forward in his chair, he flashed her his winning smile. "It was neither me, nor James who pulled that dastardly prank."

"Yes, that is what Potter claims as well" Professor McGonagall said sounding bored. "Then again, according to the two of you, you've never pulled a single prank. Even ones that had several eyewitnesses claiming they saw the two of you."

"Well yes, our track record is a little shady, but I assure you Professor, it wasn't me and it certainly was not James," Sirius replied.

"Then tell me Black, who could it possibly have been?" McGonagall asked.

"Oh, gee, I don't know Professor, there are countless other students it could have been," Sirius replied. "If you're asking me though professor, I'd have to tell you, I saw Severus Snape sneaking around that morning."

"Sirius, we both know Severus Snape does not have the talent in Charms work to enchant the ceiling of the Great Hall to rain bouncy balls," McGonagall said in a snappy tone, she was beginning to lose her patience.

Sirius suppressed a laugh. It had been one of their silliest pranks yet, also one of the most difficult to pull, but the satisfaction of seeing their classmates pelted with bouncy balls had been well worth it, especially when a rather large one bounced right into Snape's bowl of porridge, splattering him in the face.

"Who knows how his teeny little brain works Professor! If you ask me I think he's hiding his talent, acting a fool, playing dumb."

"Five points from Gryffindor, I will not have you speaking ill of any student in my office," Professor McGonagall said flatly.

"Unfair Professor, that was not me speaking ill of Snape, in fact that was me complementing him," Sirius muttered.

"Do you really wish to test me Black?" McGonagall seethed.

"My you're lovely when you're angry," Sirius grinned.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him and leaned forward.

"Alright then Black, here is what I'm going to do. Since both you and Potter insist that neither of you had anything to do with it you'll both be serving detention next Friday," she said sternly. "I think I'll have Remus and Peter join you, since I know you and James couldn't possibly have pulled this on your own."

Sirius' eyes widened in horror, there was a Quidditch match against Slytherin on Friday, surely McGonagall knew this. And he certainly couldn't allow poor Remus to take the fall for something he had absolutely nothing to do with. Peter didn't really do anything either, although he had given James and Sirius their first bouncy ball.

"But Professor, the match," he sputtered.

"James will just have to miss it, I hear we have a decent sub," she said shaking her head slightly.

"No, I did it, give me detention," Sirius said defiantly, "James and Remus had nothing to do with it."

"Really now?" Professor McGonagall asked raising her eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to claim that little stunt as your own?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Peter showed me my first bouncy ball; he thought I'd like it. And I did, I liked it so much that I wanted the rest of Hogwarts to experience that little bit of muggle magic," Sirius grinned.

"I see," Professor McGonagall nodded, "Well then, you can join James in detention with me tomorrow night," she said with a faint smirk.

"I'm confused," Sirius said, his head tilting subconsciously to the side.

"Yes, I assume you would be," said McGonagall. "You see Mr. Black, after six years of teaching you and Potter; I have grown quite accustomed to your ways. When your cohort would not confess, all I had to do was schedule a detention on a date I knew would be important to you, I chose the next Hogsmeade trip," she was grinning now, a grin Sirius had never before seen on the good Professor.

"You are a cleaver thing aren't you?" Sirius asked admiring her work.

"I've had my moments," she said modestly. "Now, I believe we are finished here Mr. Black, I will see you and James tomorrow night, let him know you'll be joining us."

"You didn't tell him?" Sirius asked.

"And risk him doing something even more idiotic to get you out of trouble? No, I thought it best to allow him to think I believed it was all him," she said.

"Sneaky devil," Sirius sighed shaking his head.

He stood up and made his way to the door.

"Oh and Sirius?" McGonagall called as he reached for the handle.

He turned back to face her.

"Next time, try and remember, I'd never compromise a Quidditch match against Slytherin," she said with a wink.

Sirius stumbled out of her classroom in shock. She had tricked them, James Potter and Sirius Black, who knew tricks better than anyone. She had given him a little insight and she had let them off easy. But best of all, she had winked at Sirius. Old McGonagall had actually winked at Sirius. As Sirius walked back up to the Gryffindor common room, he decided the bouncy ball prank had definitely had the best consequences yet.


	9. Vacant

Word: Vacant

By: Prongs

* * *

><p>Homework is always so difficult when Molly Prewitt is around. Right now she was exactly six feet away sitting on the couch by herself reading her own Potions book. Arthur read another three words, and then was distracted once more by her fiery hair. The way that a single strand always hangs right in front of her eyes is a particular interest of Arthur's. He desperately wanted to move that strand behind her ear. It would be so easy. The seat right next to her was vacant, no one was even within hearing distance. It would be so simple, but nothing was ever simple when it came to Molly Prewitt. He turned around and his eyes immediately found the Prewitt brothers. Gideon and Fabian made moving over to that vacant seat much more complex.<p>

Gideon and Fabian were known for their protectiveness of their sister. Arthur had seen many a suitor attempt to woo Molly but all were scared off by the burly brothers before she could answer. Arthur always imagined she was going to say no to these attempts, it helped him sleep at night thinking Molly never had an interest in these regular height, good vision, flowy haired boys. Then sleep would always lead to his dreams that she was saving her "yes" for the lanky, vision impaired, curly ginger that is Arthur Weasley.

"Lily Evans will you make me the happiest boy in the universe and take my hand in marriage." The first year, Arthur thought Potter was his name was kneeling in front of a very embarrassed red head, which Arthur recognized as also being a first year. Why couldn't Arthur be more like this boy and just proposition Molly, obviously not for marriage but just a simple Hogsmeade outing. Arthur turned back to the scene just in time to see the red head slap the Potter boy and walk away. Turning away from the scene and back to Molly expecting her to still be reading her book, but she was looking back at him, smiling. Arthur smiled back and Molly returned to her book.

This was his chance. He could just go sit in that vacant space next her and ask her out. The seat was calling him, taunting him to sit in it. So he got up, but he didn't go to Molly, instead he turned around to where the Prewitt brothers were sitting.

"Weasley, what can we do for you?" Fabian slapped him on the back grinning.

"Yes Weasley, dung bombs, fillbusters, fire whisky" Gideon winked, "all for sale my boy."

"Oh no thank you, I actually came here to ask you both a question." Arthur hesitated for a moment.

"Well go on."

"I would like your permission to date your sister."


	10. Tender

**_Tender Moments with Oliver Wood_**

"And Angelina, I really think you could have caught that Quaffle, you gave up too easily."

"Wood, I crashed into the goal post!"

"Yes, well, if that happens during a game I still say we keep going. In a game..."

"I will repeat this one more time for you- I crashed into a goal post and fell off my broom! How did I give up too easily?" Angelina Johnson shouted at her team captain, Oliver Wood. They were in the middle of one of Wood's post-practice speeches, filled with notes on where they could improve. As the final game of the season approached Wood was becoming more and more tense and constantly demanded more of his players. In this particular incident Angelina had been going for the Quaffle and crashed, much due to the fact that since they were playing so late no one could see where they were going in the darkness.

"Right, well..." Wood stopped talking as Angelina shot him a murderous look and rubbed her arm.

"How's your arm feeling?" Katie Bell asked.

"Alright, it's still really tender though," Angelina explained, "Madam Pomfrey said I should take it easy for a few days..."

"But the game is coming up! You cant take it easy!" Wood exclaimed.

"Good to see where your priorities lie," came the voice of George Weasley.

* * *

><p>"Oh good, I've been looking all over for you two."<p>

"Funny, we've been all over trying to avoid you," Fred Weasley muttered under his breath.

Oliver Wood jogged quickly across the corridor towards the Weasley twins, who were standing right in front of the entrance to the Great Hall. Wood's hair looked slightly frazzled and his robes extremely wrinkly, as though he'd been sleeping in them and hadn't changed. He had a wild look about his eyes, the same wild look he got every single time he talked about Quidditch.

"I've been trying to find you all day- we've got to discuss this new strategy I have for you two. The Slytherins wont know what hit them!" Wood practically shouted with excitement.

"Excellent, we can't wait to add this one to the list of moves we'll never do."

"Oh come George, you're assuming too much. This strategy might also fall on the list of moves that includes a visit to see dear Pomfrey, or on the list where we end up in Tibet, or even the list where we must complete our Last Will and Testament prior to attempting," Fred Weasley commented casually.

"Too true, I spoke too soon. Do continue Oliver," George apologized.

Wood ignored these comments, whether because he was accustomed to the twins jokes or because he was so preoccupied he didn't register them, and continued on to explain a trick he wanted Fred and George to learn for the upcoming game.

"Perfect, so all we have to do is get new brooms and extend our arms a little. Probably 3 or 4 feet longer should do it, right?" George rationed.

"Oh, and you're forgetting about the invisibility cloaks we'll need to get, since they can't see us coming," Fred continued, "And we'll probably also need all the other players to freeze for a moment or two, but I'm sure we can pull that off without any worries."

"Great, so get practicing okay! There's no way we can lose!" Wood grasped the boys arms with a wild smile and then hurriedly took off.

"How I treasure those tender moments we get to spend with that man," Fred remarked.

* * *

><p>"Come on Wood, you have to eat something," Alicia urged.<p>

"Yeah, you're gonna make yourself sick," Katie agreed.

"Not hungry. I'm fine." Oliver Wood had not eaten a bite all dinner. It was the eve of the final Quidditch game of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. All day Wood had been seen murmuring to himself about plays and pushing around little Quidditch diagrams. When asked questions he would answer in a dreamy way, before leading the conversation back to the game tomorrow.

"Really Oliver, you've got to eat sometime. How are we going to win tomorrow if you fall off your broom of starvation?" George asked. At this idea, Wood suddenly snapped to life and began filling his plate with food.

"That's the ticket. Here, have some steak, it's actually quite tender. The house elves always do outdo themselves," Fred remarked fondly. After filling his dish with food and shoveling some down his throat, Wood finally looked up at the others plates, which were all clear since they had finished eating.

"What are you all doing? You have to eat more. I don't want my players falling off their brooms tomorrow because they're too hungry!" Wood exclaimed when he saw the others dishes were empty.

"What would we do without you to look after us?" Fred wondered.

* * *

><p>Oliver Wood stood in the middle of the Quidditch stadium. Through his tear filled eyes, he could make out the other players on his team. Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Fred, George, Harry; they had all played brilliantly. He felt others come down from the crowd to congratulate them, to lift them up on their shoulders and bear them over to where they would be presented with the Quidditch Cup.<p>

The Quidditch Cup. After all the time put into it, the long hours, the planning; they had finally won the Cup. As Dumbledore handed him the shiny golden cup, the cup he had dreamed of holding since he had first come to Hogwarts, his emotions were not what he had expected them to be. Instead of the surge of pride in himself he had anticipated, he felt a different kind of pride. He looked down at the Quidditch Cup with tender affection. Then he silently, although still sobbing, handed the cup over to Harry. They had done it, not just him. And on this day, the day Oliver Wood had been waiting for his entire life, he felt immensely proud to be a member of this Gryffindor team.


	11. Bright

**_ A Smile So Bright_**

Teddy Lupin looks at the clock on his mantelpiece, it's six and he should have been at the Burrow half an hour ago. The problem is Teddy is in the middle of an extremely crucial climax of an extremely good book and he just can't seem to put it down.

An owl swoops in and drops a note in his lap; it's his grandmother's owl. It isn't a howler, but as Teddy reads it, he feels it might as well be. She's angry that he still hasn't arrived and is threating to come collect him herself. So he sighs, slips the note inside the book he was reading and places them on the table.

He changes quickly, not even bothering to look at himself in the mirror, an action he's bound to regret, seeing as his hair often changes with his mood, but he doesn't have time for it. He locks up his flat and apperates into the field near The Burrow.

The sun is slowly setting as Teddy trudges through the grass, he can make out the voices of his makeshift family. He hears Ginny telling James off for teasing Albus. He can hear Percy bragging about how many O.W.L.s Molly and Lucy received. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are, of course, bickering, but Teddy knows in a few moments time they'll be holding each other, goofy lovesick grins on their faces. Then, he hears Victoire laugh.

He could pick her laugh out of a million different laughs; after all, he's heard it for almost his entire life. He's hated that laugh for almost his entire life. Teddy equates her laugh to a bell, ringing loudly for everyone to hear. It is a laugh befitting of a girl as loud and vivacious as Victoire. It's a laugh that Teddy could never possess and Victoire is everything Teddy can never have.

Teddy has loved Victoire for as long as they have been friends. But Teddy has spent most of his life being dark and brooding, the product of losing his parents to a brutal and unfair war. Victoire is bright and beautiful, privileged in many ways and although Teddy has changed immensely he knows she will never love him the way he loves her.

Teddy spots her immediately. She's laughing at Hugo, who like his father has a knack for making people smile.

"Teddy's here!" little Lily screams in excitement.

The children swarm him and practically knock him over, trying to give him hugs. He glances up and meets Victoire's eyes. She's smiling at him and swears the world is a better place for having that smile in it. That smile, which can instantaneously brighten any room and change even the darkest of moods. Teddy's heart swells as he realizes she's using it on him.

She walks up to him, her yellow dress dances around her knees. The children have dissipated and gone back to playing their games. Victoire stops in front of Teddy.

"You're late," she says placing her hands on her hips.

"I was in the middle of something," he shrugs.

"A book no doubt." She raises an eyebrow at him and smiles knowingly.

"How did you know?" he asks with a smirk.

She looks at Teddy, affronted, and Teddy can't fathom what he has done to offend her.

"Teddy, will you come with me?" she asks holding out her hand.

"Yes," he replies without hesitation. He knows he'd follow her anywhere.

She's silent as she leads him away from the family. He takes her cue and doesn't say a word either, though he isn't sure what he'd say anyway. She stops by the small creek. After a moment of looking at him, she smiles and reaches up to run her fingers through his hair.

"Your hair is light today," she says almost absentmindedly.

"It's the same color as my dad's, I've been wearing it like this a lot recently," he replies.

"I like it," she says, her eyes meeting his.

"Victoire, what are we doing out here?"

"I wanted to tell you something, something that I've been holding onto for a long time," she says. "You're so brilliant Teddy, you catch onto everything. I thought you would figure it out, but for once you seem to be completely clueless," she laughs.

"Vic, what are you going on about?" he asks.

She smiles, then stands on her toes and places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Teddy, I love you, I have since we were kids." She brushes a piece of hair behind her ear and looks down nervously at her feet.

Teddy laughs, he's in shock. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine anything like this. He pulls her into him and kisses the top of her head.

"Gee Vic, you could've told me sooner, it would have saved us some time."

"What?" she asks looking up at him.

"I love you too, I always have. You're it Victoire, you're it for me," he replies.

She's smiling at him, and he's smiling back. The world around him seems different, like anything can happen, like possibilities are endless, like everything is bright.


	12. Ancient

_**The Noble and Ancient House of Black**_

"What is your name?" The chill of his voice made Regulus spine tingle with fear and awe.

"My name is Regulus Arcturus Black, son of Orion Black, descendent and heir to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. I am here to serve you."

"And what good can a 16 year old student do for me, Regulus Arcturus Black, son of Orion Black, descendent and heir to the Noble and Ancient House of Black?"

"My Lord, I can be your eyes and ears for Hogwarts."

"Tell me Regulus, do you fear me?" For the first time Regulus looked into the red eyes of Lord Voldemort.

"Yes, My lord."

"Stick out your arm."

Regulus woke up in a sweat, his hand clutching his arm as hard as he could. It took him a few minutes to realize he was safe. But then another moment to remember he wasn't. No one can be safe and be as close as he was to the Dark Lord. It took three years of doing the bidding and tasks of the Dark Lord, before Regulus realized just how deep he was. It was the immediate death of a close friend and fellow death eater, who couldn't get a job done, that made Regulus see that the Dark Lord had no qualm to kill even his most faithful servants. The addition of Peter Pettigrew to the Death Eaters also turned Regulus away from going deeper than he already was. There was no way he could get out, except death that is. Instead he decided to just buy his time, maybe shrink into the background, let other the other death eaters shine. And it worked, for a quite large amount of time.

It was a week ago today, however, that Voldemort took him out of the background and brought him right up under the spotlight. He had asked for Kreacher, the family house elf. The Dark Lord wouldn't tell him why, only that he needed an elf's magic and it would be a great honor to serve the Dark Lord in this way. Regulus was not so sure on this last bit.

"Are there no other house elves that could perform the task Master? The Malfoy's elf for instance." Voldemort studied Regulus, for quite a while without saying a word.

"Do you not wish to do your master's bidding?" Voldemort raised his wand.

"No Master that is not it! I am honored to be given this task." Regulus fell to his knees. "I'm merely suggesting a younger elf. Kreacher is old, he might not be able to perform the tasks you require of him."

"_Crucio_." The pain that hit Regulus was consuming. Starting at his spine and seeping into every limb his muscle began to twist and burn. And then it stopped.

"Any elf can perform the task I require. I advise you Regulus Arcturus Black, son of Orion Black, descendent and heir to the Noble and Ancient House of Black, not to question me, and _merely_ accept your Master's orders.

"Y-yes My L-Lord. Kreacher is your-yours to use." Regulus stammered out, trying to pick himself up off the floor.

"Good. _Crucio._"

Regulus had grown up with Kreacher. It was the elf Regulus told all his secrets to. Everything he thought about life had met Kreacher's ears. Kreacher, as embarrassing as it was for Regulus to admit even to himself, was his only friend. And he had to send that friend into the hands of almost certain death.

"Kreacher, I have a job for you." Regulus

"Certainly master Regulus." Kreacher turned his head away from the stew he was cooking and looked up at Regulus.

"I need you to go to the Dark Lord. When you are with him, he will give you a task, or multiple tasks, you must perform these tasks to your utmost capabilities. After you have finished these tasks Kreacher, this is the most important job you will ever take from me, you must return home to me. Under any circumstances, after you complete the Dark Lord's orders you come back. Do you understand Kreacher?"

"Yes Master Regulus."

Kreacher returned only last night. He was badly bruised and smelled of the sea, but he was home. He told Regulus of the evil locket and the cruelty that Voldemort showed poor Kreacher. Regulus's blood was boiling throughout the story. When Kreacher told him that Voldemort left Kreacher to die in the cave, with the dead bodies crawling to get to him, Regulus had had enough.

Kreacher had been audience to a monologue by Voldemort, thinking he was speaking to an elf that would soon be dead. He had divulged that the locket was a Horcruxe and his plan to create more: his plan to defeat death.

After hearing all this from Kreacher, it was not just about himself anymore. If Voldemort used these Horcuxes to defeat death, then fear is the only thing the world has to look forward to. Regulus had to stop his master as well as he could. And the only way was to acquire the locket. He had Kreacher fashion a copy. Regulus placed a note to his former master in the locket, and prepared himself.

And here they are. Man and elf, doing what they can to make the world rid of fear.

"Master Regulus, let me drink, master I can do it." Kreacher was reaching for the cup.

'No Kreacher, I have to do this. These are your last orders from me Kreacher." Regulus took the cup out of the elf's reach.

"Master Regulus, don't say such things. You will come back. We will live in the manor and you will give me many orders. Master Regulus."

"Kreacher, after I must drink this potion, I'm not sure what it will do to me, but as soon as you can, you must grab the locket and leave ours in its place."

"Master Regulus, let me drink, please Master Regulus,"

"As soon as you have made the switch. You must leave."

"NO, Master Regulus I will take you with me."  
>"You must leave Kreacher. You must, and when you get back, you have to destroy the locket. Do anything you can think of to destroy that locket. Do you understand." Kreacher was shaking in sobs, shaking his head.<p>

"I can takes you with me Master Regulus, I can take you with me."

"Kreacher. No. You will do as you are ordered. You serve The Noble and Ancient House of Black. You will do as your master has ordered." It hurt Regulus to use such harsh words with his friend, but it needed to be done. There is no way Regulus could return, he would just die at the hand of Voldemort. Why give him the pleasure. No, his death will remain an enigma, and eventually, the Dark Lord will know that Regulus Arcturus Black, son of Orion Black, descendent and heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black had betrayed his oath and did his best to conquer fear.


End file.
